“Bent pushrod on the rear cylinder intake. Luckily there was no damage to my new top end. But I’m gonna go ahead and replace the lifters when we get back. It could be a lot worse.”
Reload shook his head. “You do know ‘drive it like you stole it’ is just a saying, right?”
Quick pulled the toothpick from his mouth and growled, “Hell, I was being gentle with her. Just trying to get all the new stuff broken in good and proper. Fuckin’ glad you were close.”
“How the hell did you bend a pushrod?”
“Just shit luck. They were perfect. Heat cycled the motor three times and everything was good to go before I left Atlanta.”
Reload aimed his wraparound shades at him and grinned. “Well, I guess the asphalt is safe for at least one more day.”
Quick sat up straight. “You hear that?”
A clanking noise could be heard coming from the bed of the truck. He turned to look through the rear window to where his bike was loaded up in the back. “Damn it. A tie down came loose. Pull over.”
Reload shook his head in disgust. “Shit, Quick, can’t you even manage to strap the fucking thing down right?”
“Just shut up and pull over.”
Reload pulled to the side of the road, and they both climbed out. Quick hopped up in the bed. It only took him a moment to re-secure the hook and tighten the ratchet down pulling the strap taught. He stood, examining the other tie-downs and making sure it was all secure. A big rig tractor-trailer passed by, horn blaring, the gust of wind rocking the truck. It drew Quick’s attention, and he looked up.
“Motherfucker. He almost sideswiped us,” Reload shouted above the interstate noise.
Quick’s eyes followed the semi-trailer as it rode off. Then something caught his eyes. He looked up to see a giant billboard.
And the face of the woman they’d been in this goddamned state searching for all these months.
Fucking hell. She was here.
“Reload,” he shouted back over the noise.
“Yeah?”
Quick pointed up at the billboard with Skylar in her gold blazer, arms folded and a big smile on her face.
Reload looked up. “Progressive Realty. So what? You buyin’ a house?”
“No, moron. The chick in the picture! That’s our girl.”
Reload looked again, his eyes squinting. “Well, hell, how about that.”
Quick pulled his phone out of his back pocket and dialed up Rat.
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
Saturday—
Shades and Ghost pulled up to a stop sign in some bum-fuck town in the middle of nowhere. Griz, Hammer, JJ, Gator, Spider and Heavy pulled up behind them.
“It’s a nice town,” JJ commented.
Heavy gave him a strange look. “Yeah, right. Have you looked around?”
Shades studied the navigation on his cell phone.
“You lose service, and we’re screwed.” Ghost chuckled.
Shades pointed to the road on the right. “This way.”